Because Dylan's Gone
by lanakael
Summary: What more can Marco do to get into trouble with Dylan so far away? Might not follow cannon as I don't know anything after the first ep where Alex works at the strip club. Hope you guys enjoy anyway. Chapter 6 up!
1. The Shock

Because Dylan's Gone

_No hate mail, PLEASE!!! I love our two fave boys, and _YES_ I know both Marco and Alex are both gay, but bear with me on this one, kai? I promise I'll put them both back when I'm done with 'em!_

It was _his_ voice on the phone that did it.

After weeks and weeks of calling Dylan and not getting an answer, after weeks and weeks of missing his messages while at school or working for my father to pay off the $600 bucks I'd stolen from him to gamble with; after weeks and weeks of halfheartedly trying to regain my friends' trust when my mind was really on the lack of email in my inbox--after all of that, someone _finally_ picked up when I called for what must've been the millionth time that day.

But it wasn't Dylan who picked up the phone.

I knew immediately something was up just by the way he answered the phone, this guy. Sure, Dylan's in this hockey team. Sure, he has roommates; they have parties, friends over. So the phone can be answered by anyone at any given time. I know this. But it was the voice. That "Hello?" was too silky, too low and sultry and chills-up-your-spine deep to have come from a casual visitor. Anyone who's had sex more than twice just _knows_ what that voice sounds like, right? So I ask if Dylan's there, lump already in my throat. Heart already starting to fray. A pregnant pause; a muffled "Baby, wake up! Phone. Are you here?"...then Dylan's sleepy voice asking who it was. Silky Voice lost much of his satiated tone as he whispered back that it sounded like some upset kid. Then--add insult to injury!--Dylan groaning that it must be Marco, _again_, and he was going back to sleep, tell him something. _Tell him something_? The cheating bastart couldn't even get out of bed to give me a half-assed lie?? Sexy voice came back on the line, all business now as he informed me that he looked around, asked the other guys, and Dylan had stepped out for a moment; no one knew when he'd be back but the message would get passed alone. I wanted to scream at him, ask him if he knew Dylan had a boyfriend and that he was breaking up a happy home, but I didn't. Happy? I'd been miserable from the moment Dylan had left, and he couldn't have been much happier, seeing as he never contacted me and now had found someone else.

The operator asking me if I'd like to make another call informed me that I needed to hang up the phone, which I'd been cradling to my chest as though it needed comfort. _I_ was the one who needed comfort. Today was my one day off. What could I do? Spinner was out. Our relationship had been on rocky ground ever since he'd allowed me to be aressted. Of course, I was in the wrong for gambling in the shop in the first place, but still...my pride was more than stung, and, besides, a record doesn't exactly shine on a job application. Anyway, even if we were still talking, tonight Spinner was taking Jimmy to some self defense class, both having really gotten serious about the shop and the possibility of getting robbed during store hours when the alarm would be off. Paige was out with Jesse--Not even going to comment on that--and Ellie, usually my near-constant companion, was out listening to some gloomy girl band I hadn't been in the mood to listen to. Well, I was in the mood now, but I didn't feel like hunting her down. Back home? Hell no. I could just see it, Mama pushing food on me like I was a refugee while Papa did his usual preaching. He'd come to terms with my confession that Dylan was my boyfriend; had come to accept a little more that I was gay, but that was about it. It's not like I could go to him for relationship advice.

Damn. I lay my head on the back of the couch, thinking of things I could do to occupy my time, block the ache in my heart and keep the tears at bay. Then I jumped up, suddenly having a major need for air. Without thinking, I grabbed my wallet and keys, took a light jacket from the coatrack near the door, and I was out. I had no idea where I was going, but my feet did their job anyway while my mind swirled. Was this just a walk, or did I have a destination in mind? Where would be a good place to go to drown my sorrorws? I wasn't hungry, so the usual food joints were out. A club? I didn't feel like hitting the gay bars; I wasn't into picking anyone up and didn't want to anyone come on to me. Just thinking about the scene depressed me. "Regular" clubs made me nervous if I wasn't with my friends. Not sure why. Gambling was definately out. I'd promised Mama and Papa, and I'd promised myself. Nothing good there...I was brought out of my reverie by the sounds of one of my favorite songs. Looking up, I noticed I was standing in front of Zanzibar. Where Alex works A bubble of laughter welled up in me before I could stop it. Alex was cool and all, but I just couldn't see her dancing. A wild thought came to me then. I'd go in. Have a few drinks, check out Alex's show. Maybe even get her to give me a lapdance as a practical joke. Alex would go for that. She's got a wicked sense of humors, and of course she knows she wouldn't have to worry about me groping or leering at her, we have a couple of laughs and be silly, and she gets paid in the process. Why not?


	2. Wherever I May Roam

So, this is Zanzibar.

I stepped into a world that was...strange. The bar side of the room was ok. The girls were all pretty, I suppose, dressed in strapless, short black dresses as they rushed around serving drinks to men sitting at the tables. Normal enough, I guess. The other side of the room, however...A large, lighted stage with a pole in the center dominated that section of the room. Chairs were set up around the stage, where a tall, very well-endowed blonde was dancing in front of a mirror, twisting her hips, then spinning around and two-stepping her way to the pole. I had to admit she was good.

I absently showed my I.D. and paid the cover charge. I sort of walked to the center of the room, not really sure which direction I wanted to go. That changed when _she_ came on stage. Alex. She was dressed in a short, flared skirt of some shimmery material that caught the light and sparkled. Alex sparkled too, some cream, I guess.She was spilling out of the slinky black bra she was wearing, and the short red vest wrapped around her only accentuated the swell of her breasts as she dipped and swayed, pouting with full red lips. I'd never seen her with that much makeup on before. I had to admit to myself that she was a very beautiful girl. If I were straight, I'd make a pass at her. That made me think of Ellie for some reason, and though we're tighter than ever as friends now, an old pain suddenly lanced through me. I'd hurt her so badly. Just like Dylan hurt me...

I shook my head to get rid of that thought before it took root, hurriedly making my way to the stage and taking a seat. Alex hadn't seen me yet, as she'd spun away from the pole, lightly skipping over to the mirror. She placed her hands on the mirror, bending low and shaking her behind. Nice. At least the men around me thought so, as several gasps of appreciation managed to sound above the music and hands waving bills waved in the air. A waitress tapped me on the shoulder and I gave my order, one eye on Alex. She did a dip, then turned, whipping her head to the side. That's when she finally saw me, and her eyes got wide as they locked with mine for a second. I smiled at her gently, letting her know I wasn't there to cause trouble, then gave her an impish wink. Trust Alex to pick up on it, because she grinned, recovering smoothly, winking back as she dropped to all fours and crawled seductively my way. I got a $5 ready, waggling it at her as she approached. As soon as she got directly in front of me, she placed a leg on either side of me and lifted her pelvis, waving it at me in slow circles, then smoothly lifted one leg, swinging it over my head, spinning on her knees until she was on all fours once more, facing me again. She grabbed me by the front of my shirt, mouth all seductive pout as she pulled closer as if to kiss me. I was starting to get uncomfortable, but when our faces were about an inch apart, she winked me again and said, loud enough for only me to hear, "I'm gonna kill you for this, Del Rossi." I laughed and stuck the bill between her breasts mock gingerly between thumb and forefinger, making her laugh. She ruffled my hair, winking again before spinning off to collect from the others slobberng over her. I sat back, settling down, and watched Alex more closely. I couldn't help but watch her as she danced; she was lithe, smooth. For some reason she reminded me of Dylan. Damn. He moved like that on the ice--smooth, barely leashed power, like a jungle cat that knows its power but doesn't want to hurt anyone. Slick, taut muscles coiled and smoothed as she twirled, reminding me of Dylan when he caught the puck with his stick and turned to make the winning shot. I don't like hockey, but I loved to watch Dylan move.on the ice. For some reason, comparing Alex to Dylan like this causes me no pain. What it _does_ cause...

I rush to the Men's room, the rum and cola I'd ordered already burning my throat as it threatens to come up.

Oh, damn.


	3. The Ties That Strangle

So I'm in the Mens room now.

My face is pressed into the cool of the mirror; I'd already splashed my face with cold water. My hands are shaking, dripping with water. I wish I had some ice. Blessed coolness, lost in the cold. But I can't, because no matter how much cold water I splash on myself here, it won't take away the heat. It's threatening to consume me, and I don't have the slightest idea what to do. I haven't thought about a girl since...Ellie. Once I realized I was gay, I pretty much lost all interest in women as sexual beings. Oh, I can still appreciate a beautiful girl, but it's like appreciating a painting or a statue. Pretty, but it doesn't move me that way, if you know what I mean.

I dry off my face and hands, then smooth a hand down the front of my pants. Any other man wouldn't have cared--this _is_ a strip club, after all. Naked ladies in various states of undress gyrating on stage. Men are _supposed_ to tent their pants here. But what would they say if they knew a gay man was in their midst, turned on by a former classmate he's had a prickly relationship with, at best? No, I wasn't turned on by _her_, it wasn't her. I've just been messed up by my hurt over Dylan cheating again, and comparing the two of them, how each moves, and remembering old times, Dylan holding me, touching me...the heartache flares again, but so does the heat and I latch on to that, seeking refuge in it. There, safe. Guys turn me on in general, Dylan in particular. Or at least he did. Well, he still does, I just don't do it for _him_ anymore. But at least I'm back on familiar ground. I shake my head, smile ruefully at the pale, slightly shaken image in the mirror, then open the bathroom door. Time to head home.

Well, that was the plan, anyway. Halfway to the door, someone grabs my arm and spins me around. Oh, God. Alex. Damn.

"Hey there, Cowboy," she says, laughing. "I told you I'd get you back! What are you doing here?" I try to answer her, but all of a sudden that lump is back in my throat and all I can do is shake my head. Alex--when did she get so perceptive?--automatically put her arm around me and shouted to some guy that she needed to take a break. The guy shook his head and shouted back that the house was full and she needed to get her ass back on the floor. She thought for a moment, then said, "Lap dance, this guy here!" pulling me closer. The man looked at me dubiously; I guess my face didn't exactly register sexual excitement. But I put a large smile on my face and slipped an arm around her, and she smacked my arm away, grinning and reminding me that customers couldn't touch the girls. I guess we were convincing enough, because the guy relaxed and nodded as Alex took my hand and led me to a back room with a mini stage and a chair, which she pushed me into. This room was a private room with a door, and she closed it securely, flipping a switch, then turning to me.

"Ok, spill, Del Rossi. I gotta warn you, though, this little therepy session's gonna cost you forty bucks. I am on the clock, you know." She sat on the floor in front of me and looked up expectantly. I sigh, dragging my fingers though my hair, wondering where to begin.

"Dylan's cheating on me again," I hear myself saying. Might as well shoot straight, no sense in sugar coating anything for my own comfort. Alex wouldn't. She's quiet for once, nodding to encourage me to continue, so I do. "I don't know what the hell to do anymore! Dylan was my life! He completed me. We were a _couple_, for crying out loud! He knows how much he hurt me when he cheated the first time and he promised, he _promised_ me that he'd never do this again! How could he...how? My voice had climbs with rage at the beginning and I jump up, pacing, but the last two words come out in tortured whispers and I plop back down in my seat, head in my hands, breathing ragged as I struggle for control. My heart's beating so hard that I barely hear Alex's soft words.

"Del Rossi, hyou're an idiot." I snap my head up to stare at her, suprised. How can she be saying this.

"What do you mean?" I say. "An idiot? Alex, my heart is breaking here!" I'm wounded. I mean, if anyone should understand, I thought Alex would be the one. All that she's been through with Paige. I mean, Paige has never actually cheated on Alex, but the little yo-yo situation she's dragged Alex into, denying her bisexuality while using Alex as a backup in her confusion, well...but I shut out my thoughts to listen to what she has to say. And I can tell she's about to gear up.

"Yeah, and idiot. You put all your eggs in one basket. Dylan this, Dylan that, Dylan and me, me and Dylan, Dylan Dylan, yawn. When you weren't glued to his side, his name was constantly in your mouth. I wondered how you managed to eat most times. Frankly, sweetie, you've got to get your own thing going and not depend on anyone to do it for you. Ask my mom about that. No one completes or defines you, Marco. _You_ do that for yourself, and anyone else who comes into your life is an enhancement. Nothing more, nothing less.You chase after Dylan like a little lap dog, and that makes you pathetic" Her breathing's as jagged as mine at this point, though her face is neutral. I can tell she's thinking about Paige and she's just as angry as I am. Something mean in me goads her, wanting her to be as mad as I am, to finally admit to someone else her feelings and the situation with Paige.

"Oh, you're one to talk! Is Paige anywhere on your calendar this week? No? Oh, that's right, she's out looking for a new _boy_friend! And here you are, shaking your ass for money when all you really want to do is spend the night cuddled up with the girl of your dreams!" I'm bent over at this point, screaming the last sentence in her face. She pushes me away and hops up, and despite the situation I once again notice how quick, how lithe she is when she moves. Just like Dylan. My admiration stops when she grabs my shirt again and hauls me up until we're face to face.

"Don't you _dare_ talk down your nose to me, del Rossi! Paige is the one who doesn't know what she wants, not me! Don't talk what you don't know! At least I can say mine's confused, what excuse do you have? You had your man twice and couldn't keep him either time!" She's starting to shake me now, hand fisted in my shirt. I try to push her away, and when I do, she falls against the mini stage, taking three of my buttons with her. She yelps in suprise, then glares at me, the anger on her face sliding into fury. My own anger slides up several notches as something dark seems to let loose in the room. We're both caught in the same situation. And we're stuck. Loving people who don't--won't--love us back. And we're pissed. Everything cobines in my head--our situation, where I'm at, that it's Alex I'm fighting when Dylan is the one I want to have this out with..and the similarities between the two of them. There were no similarities before tonight. I talked with Alex constantly at Degrassi once we were elected to our Student Council offices, but it was always about school. Nothing personal. She wasn't exactly social, and everyone was afraid of her. She's been around the house a lot lately, but that's only been when Paige has dragged her over. Even next to Dylan, talking with him, I never noticed any similarities. But to note those now, the fluidity of movement, the outspoken, straight and forward manner of speech, the take charge attitude, hell, even the somewhat masculine way Alex can move at times--especially when she's angry--all these things combine to confuse, yet stir me in a way I don't understand. And that confused excitement makes my fury boil over into unthinking rage.

She grabs me, and an angry Alex is like a force of nature. She slaps me with her free hand, catching me with one of her rings. Unthinkingly, I slap her back. We both freeze, our eyes widening, Alex cradling her cheek. I know she's got issues with abuse, having seen her mom go through a fair share of loser boyfriends. And I've never in my life hit a woman. Hell, I've never hit _anyone_, let alone, most especially, a woman. I don't have time to think, though, because Alex. Is. Pissed.

"You son of a _**bitch**_," she snarls, rushing me. I knew she was going to attack, what I wasn't prepared for was her right hook. Damn!! Stars exploded in my head as I rock back from the force of the blow. She's strong, and fueled by anger. I've never been in a fight before, and it figures I'm going to get my first ass whipping at the hands of a girl. In a strip club, no less. Why am I thinking now? She punches me again, and when I reel back and shake it off, I get a moment to look at her. She's screaming at me now, cursing me and telling me to get out or she'll call the bouncer and he'll really whip my ass. But the way she's standing, the angle of her body...Just. Like. Dylan. Dylan. My mind goes blank but I feel my body move.

I rush her, grabbing a handful of hair. She shrieks and starts hitting me. We're struggling, calling each other names, but I'm not sure we're fighting each other anymore. At least I'm not. I'm looking at Alex, but it's not really her face I'm seeing. My hands are grasping curly blond locks, so soft! Eyes wide and blue as the sky. Eyes you can drown in. And I have, so many, many times. Mouth, full and warm and inviting, so soft. I have to make him understand how much I need him, love him. I lower my head.

"Marco?" my name, but I can barely hear it.Dylan. "What the hell are you doing? We're both ga-" I cut him off mid-sentence.

"Don't leave me," I whisper, then I reclaim my Beloved.


	4. Getting Things Straight

I'm lost in this kiss. Dylan. The hint of tongue, which I latch onto eagerly. I'm kissing him for all I'm worth. I have to make him understand how much I need him back! I press hotly up against him, mouth working fervently when I notice a few things are wrong. _Horribly_ wrong. Dylan? No, the mouth feels all wrong suddenly, feminine, and is that lipstick I'm tasting? The body. No strong, hard chest I'm pressed against here, but the swell of breasts. Huh? Then I'm rewarded with a groan, a very woman-like "Oh God," before my brain finally clears and I snap to attention. "Alex?"

I leap back from her as though burned. And, in many ways, I am. Her eyes are still closed and she brings a hand to her chest, murmuring, "Paige" before slitting her eyes open a bit. Looking at me, panting. _Seeing_ me finally, then gasping as her eyes fly open and she pushes back against the mini stage. Then her eyes narrow dangerously and I spread my hands helplessly, apologies already spilling from my mouth as I back away, watching her face. Finally, the dangerous look leaves her face and she just looks miserable. Like I feel.

"What the hell just happened here, Del Rossi?" she questions quietly. I barely hear her over the song she'd chosen for my "dance". She wipes at her face with the tails of her tiny red vest, careful not to smear her makeup. She looks tired, suddenly, and older than her years. I can only imagine how I must look. I scrub my face with my hands and prepare to piss her off again.

"I'm sorry, Alex," I start. "It's just that, well, I lost it a little. I was tripping over Dylan, and you remind me of him in many ways."

"Oh?" she says. I can't tell if she's intrigued, mad, or a bit of both; but I'm in this now, might as well blunder on, good soldier.

"Yeah, you do. You're both really outspoken. Not really afraid of much of anything. The way you move, lithe, graceful, powerful. Dangerous." I blush as I get ready to offer this nugget. I may as well, since I'm on the honesty track. "It..kinda turned..me...on..." There, I'd said it. I watched her eyes grow a bit, then she threw her head back and laughed.

"Damn, now you're comparing me with Curly! Funniest thing I ever heard." But she stopped laughing, looking even more miserable than before. She looked down and confided in a low voice, "I hate to say this, but you reminded me of Paige there for a minute, too. You guys are more alike than you think."

"Really? Howso?" I'm stunned and curious. I really want to know.

"I dunno," she shrugs. "You guys hang around so much. Your speech patterns are the same. You both like the same things. Hell, you even like the same type of guys. Not that she would be interested in her brother," she adds quickly. "But I've seen you guys watch t.v. and you both crush on the same actors and stuff. I mean, your attitudes are different and all, and she's really outspoken while you're more reserved, but other than that, it's like you two share one mind. It's scary, sometimes. Even when you went off there a moment ago you reminded me of her.

_A moment ago..._"Alex, I'm truly, truly sorry for hitting you. I've never--"

She holds up a hand, silencing me. "We don't talk about that. _Ever_. Or I'll kill you, Del Rossi, I swear I will. So it never happened. Right? She smiles, but her eyes and stance challenges me. This time, I'm not up to the fight.

"What never happened?" I say. This time her smile is real, and when she steps up to me, she slaps me lightly on the shoulder.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," she says and I agree. Halfway to the door, however, she stops me. "Hey, pal," she says. "40 bucks, remember? I'm still on the clock."

We burst out laughing as I dig in my wallet.


	5. Drunk and Busted

I'm rip roaring drunk. And flat broke. But it's a good kinda broke.

I decided to stick around to watch Alex dance. And she did, three more times. In between times, she and the other girls crowded me. Seems that between dances, the girls are to walk the floor, talk to the customers, share a drink or two. You know, loosen them up so they'll throw more money at their favorite dancer. Alex told her co-workers that I was gay and wouldn't hassle them, but I liked to watch girls dance. After that, I was swarmed with ladies for the rest of the night, sitting on my lap and wiggling to test me, giving me drinks, chatting excitedly. It was a hell of a fun time. And when Alex danced, I tipped generously, thanking my friend for helping me out. Of course, I still couldn't help but compare her to Dylan, and yes, it affected me physically. But I don't know if I'd just decided to accept my lot, or if it was the alcohol in my system, but the arousal felt comfortable for some reason. Easy to deal with and ignore.

And suddenly, it was closing time. The last dancer shimmied off the stage as the house lights came on and the DJ boomed over the loudspeaker, thanking everyone for coming, listing the special events and drink specials for the next week, telling everyone to drive safe and come back tomorrow. Alex swatted me on the behind, eliciting giggles from the other dancers, and told me to stay put while she changed.

Fifteen minutes later the Alex I knew came out of the dressing room: black halter, jeans, and black, low-heeled boots. Very little makeup and small hoop earrings. She didn't look so worldly now, but young and fresh again. I liked it.

"Ready to go, Cowboy?" she grinned at me, then swayed. She'd obviously had a few drinks past the club's rules for the dancers. But nobody had said anything, so no big, I supposed. I stepped to her and swayed myself; we caught each other and giggled drunkenly. "C'mon, I'll drive ya home," she slurred and I shook my head.

"You're in NO condition to drive, Alex. They'd find us wrapped around a phone pole in the morning." For some reason, that set us off to more giggles. The waitresses just shook their heads at us as we bobbed toward the door.

"Then whaddya suggest? YOU drive?" She laughed as I shook my head.

"Nope. Pete and Joe's Taxi Service." I pointed down in the general direction of my feet, which set us off on another gale of laughter.

"Ok, then, Pete and Joe, let's fly!" Alex grabbed my arm and we started running down the sidewalk, weaving like the drunks we were. "Hey, your place or mine?" she panted as we finally slowed down. "Wait, scratch that question. Mom's home, it's gotta be your place." She whipped out a cell phone and called her mother, saying she was going to crash at a friend's house.

I watch her, confused for only a moment. Then I figured she'd wanted to talk some more, maybe drink some more, and suddenly I was game. Dylan was gone, Ellie had told me she was going to spend the night at the library cramming for some test; and all my other friends were pissed at me. So, it was me and Alex. I didn't want to spend the night in an empty house, anyway. "C'mon," I said, grabbing her arm. For some reason we took off running again, laughing like loons until we reached my house. I let her in and she plopped on the couch fist thing, asking for a drink.

I dug through the kitchen, looking for something good for us to drink. Nobody in the house drank much, so I was coming up empty handed. But in the fridge I found a bottle of champagne. I took it out and tears clouded my vision as I remembered Dylan buying this for us, saying we'd drink it to celebrate if he actually made it on the Switzerland team. He'd made it, but we'd never gotten around to drinking it. My tears must've given Alex some clue as to my thoughts, for she suddenly rounded the kitchen island and took the bottle from my hand.

"C'mon, Del Rossi! He's gone and you have to move on! Here, let's celebrate." She started looking about for glasses.

"Celebrate? What's there to celebrate?" The liquor was turning dark in my system, and I was starting to frown. Alex cursed that there were no champagne flutes, so she expertly twisted the cage on the bottle and popped it like she'd been doing it all her life. The bottle foamed and she drank it straight from the bottle.

"We're celebrating life, sweetie! You at your first strip club. Me getting the most tips in my short dancing history. Hell, we're even celebrating getting drunk!" She tipped her head back again and something in her stance, the long line of her throat...dammit, Dylan! Will you give me no peace?

Alex handed the bottle to me and I took a long, long drink. The bubbly liquid poured down my throat in a cool rush. Suddenly I just didn't care anymore. As I took the bottle from my mouth, I let out a loud WHOOP!!, holding the bottle up in the air.

"That's it, Del Rossi, let it ouuuut!!" Alex howled, then she WHOOPed too and chased me around the kitchen.

This went on for quite some time. We'd chase each other around a room, having silently, for some reason, decided to play strip chase. One would catch the other and a piece of clothing would go flying, then we'd both take a shot of champagne. We jumped on the couch, whooping and hollering. Then Alex chased me upstairs where we sprayed each other with shaving cream in the bathroom. More clothes went flying. Then I chased her into my room, both of us screaming bloody murder. We hopped on the bed and jumped, sending champagne flying everywhere. She put her panties on my head and I peered out of one of the legs, talking like a pirate. Alex howled with laughter at that. I put my socks on her ears. We roared and drank more champagne. There were no more clothes left to throw, so we took turns dousing each other with the last of the champagne. Then we plopped on the bed, naked, sticky, still somewhat giddy, and exhausted. We looked at each other and grinned.

"That was fun!" exclaimed Alex. "We should do this more often, del Rossi." I nodded in agreement. We were silent for a moment, then I turned to say something to her when I noticed she'd gotten sad and was staring at something. I tracked her gaze and saw it: a framed picture on my desk of all of us--Dylan and me, his arms around me. Paige grinning and Alex standing near her, looking like she didn't want to be in the picture, but smiling anyway. Happier times. It must've been the liquor, because a tear rolled from Alex's face. Alex never cried.

"Hey, Alex, don't," I said. I didn't know what to do, so I put an arm around her to comfort her. She suddenly let loose with a torrent of sobs and scooted closer. I don't know how she ended up in my lap, but I was rocking her, nonsense words to console tripping from my mouth.

"Damn you, Paige," she whispered savagely under her breath. Next thing I know, her mouth was on mine, kissing me just as savagely. The liquor froze in my head and I started to push her away. Then I remembered what I'd done earlier and understood her motivations. I let the kiss continue, figuring she needed to purge her demons the way I'd needed to purge mine earlier. That made me think of Dylan, what he'd done, that he was the catylist for this night, and the anger rose in me again. I joined Alex in the kiss for real this time, and it went on for some time. Finally, we parted, breathing hard.

"You know what this is about, don't you?" Alex asked. I knew I was going to agree with this, knew that had we been sober the thought would never have crossed our minds. But the liquor gave us a whole new perspective and we knew full well what this was about. Getting back at Dylan--with a girl. Getting back at Paige. With a guy. I nodded.

"What better revenge?" I said. She leaned into me and I grabbed her, pulling her under me. I'd never been with a woman before, but I was no stranger to the bedroom. I figured what I didn't know, Alex would fill me in on.

As we sank into each other, Alex paused a moment. "We're still gay though, right?" That had us both laughing. And then the laughter stopped.

_**The Next Morning**_

Ellie Nash wearily made her way to the steps of the house she shared with Marco, Dylan, and Paige. She wondered tiredly if Marco had ever managed to reach Paige's brother. At that thought, Paige drove up as if on cue, Spinner in the passenger's seat. Great. Now she'd have to put up with their noise, not to mention Marco, who was the worst sort of morning person. She unlocked the door slowly as the couple joined her. None spoke. Paige was going to hurl her usual insult when she noticed that the other girl looked on the verge of collapse. Paige took the keys from Ellie, suprising the other with an understanding smile. Spin supported her as Paige unlocked the door, then the couple helped her inside, Spin holding Ellie's mountain of books. The sight that greeted them shocked them all into full wakefulness.

The house was a wreck. Clothes were everywhere, furniture overturned, surfaces were wet. Everyone's first thought was a robber until they all noticed that nothing was stolen. Just the mess.

"Did Marco throw a party?" Ellie wondered.

"Maybe Marco finally forgot about Dylan and got busy," Spin grinned. He still hadn't quite forgiven Marco for the store gambling incident, but hey. Marco was still his friend, and if the boy had finally gotten over Dylan and gotten a new guy, then Spinner wished him every happiness.

"I don't know, Spin,"Paige countered. "Marco doesn't seem the type to pick up a random guy, and he would've told us if he'd met someone, right Ellie?" The other girl nodded in agreement as Paige bent down to pick up an article of clothing, inspecting it a bit. "Hey!! These are _girl's_ clothes!!" The other two just gaped at her.

"Are you _sure_?" from Ellie and Spin at once. Paige nodded, then noticed something. The black halter top she was holding seemed awfully familliar...

"Let's go see what's going on," Paige said woodenly, starting up the stairs. Spin and Ellie noticed the change in her and shrugged at each other, then followed the girl up the stairs. Each step revealed more clothing; Ellie was starting to worry.

At the door, they all gingerly peeked in--and got the shock of their lives. Marco and Alex lay, entertwined. what few clothes remained were scattered about and it was very, very obvious what they'd been doing. An empty champagne bottle lay on its side at the foot of the bed. Alex stretched and yawned, but didn't open her eyes. Instead, she snuggled closer to Marco, who put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

Ellie and Spinner gaped a moment, then Spin reached out and hurriedly shut Marco's door. He and Ellie sped down the stairs, each trying to forget what they'd just seen. Paige stared at the door a moment longer, rage building in her face and eyes, then she slowly made her way down to join the others.


	6. The Morning After

_**Back Upstairs**_

Alex and Marco noticed it at the same time. Something felt strange.

Alex's first indication was the body in her bed. She was single now as far as she knew; she was going to open her eyes, but she knew she was hung over and the sunlight hitting her closed lids didn't promise to be gentle. So she stuck out an exploratory hand and was rewarded with a hard, thin somewhat muscular--and _flat_--chest. Huh???

Marco felt the body next to him. _Dylan_, his still-asleep mind thought happily. He reached out to bring his love closer to him; but his hand grabbed something that felt firm, yet soft, and suspiciously like a breast. An exploratory squeeze comfirmed his thoughts. Huh???

Alex turned her head to the left. Marco turned his head to the right. Each opened their eyes. For the moment, each had forgotten the events of the night before, so each did what was natural.

They screamed.

Alex shrieked and pushed at Marco, who yelped and rolled out of bed so fast he tripped, fell, and hit his head on the bedside table. Alex, still shrieking, scooted out of bed so fast she forgot to put her feet down and landed on her behind. Marco stood and covered his groin. Alex stood, flinging one hand across her breasts and the other over her private area. They glared at each other.

_**Downstairs**_

Yelling sounded from above. Three heads turned toward the ceiling in unison. Ellie shook her head and grinned despite herself. Paige's face was a thundercloud. She yanked open the fridge door and stuck her head inside to cool down the anger boiling in her. Spinner was all smiles.

"The drunks are up," he announced cheerfully.


End file.
